A mixed bag of babies and a blog

May 2010

05/29/2010

Percentages are biased. They only tell you one side of the story. Similar to a political poll that seeks to test a theory of whether people who eat beets are more or less likely to vote for the big elephant, it really depends on who you ask, and whether they ate oatmeal that morning. Oatmeal with maple syrupand raisins. (I hate oatmeal with maple syrup and raisins)

Aja visited the pediatrician this morning because she's come down with her first real cold. The first few days were of no concern, but then she stopped wanting to take her bottles. Of course the moment we got out of the house and into an examination room she perked up. This girl is a champion smiler but hadn't cracked a real grin in days. The doctor walked in, looked at our patient, and the room lit up with her smile. It was just for a moment, but Aja proved that she was in charge.

The best result of the trip to the doctor, other than the fact that Aja only has a minor ear infection, is that she was weighed. Now nine months old, we have seen her grow steadily. But when it comes to the check-ups we might as well ignore the data because they don't have a special one for preemies. She has spent her life swimming at the bottom of the growth chart, looking up at the other babies that climb the chart a little higher each day. But today she made it onto the chart. We have made it ON THE CHART. We're at 1% for weight. I'm going to throw a party. Considering Aja is still sick, it might consist of snot rags and hours spent coughing around the dining room table. Duck duck snot. There might even be candles.

Just a reminder that I'm now visible in all my writing glory at the Examiner.com. Read my first article about how television is a mom's best friend http://bit.ly/a09izH. Were it written as a papoe exclusive it would be titled, Yes, I let my kids watch television, so F*&% off if you don't like it. Happy reading.

05/27/2010

There is a lot I want to do for my girls, and a lot I want to teach them, but I understand that there are things that they will have to teach me. I’m not talking about those mother/daughter misunderstandings we’ll have in those dreaded teenage years, when I just plain don’t understand what they want to wear, how they speak, or the drivel of girlfriends and boyfriends. One day, I’m not sure when, there will be a question of identity that will need to be answered.

I don’t pretend to understand what it means to be black, nor can I understand what it means to grow up and have to find a balance between being white and black. It will be a series of trials and missteps and there will be many things that I get wrong. What I know I can do for my girls is teach them to be good people, and to be compassionate and giving to others. That is my job.

A report came out yesterday that stated there are less interracial marriages than in years past. I didn’t try and read between the lines to determine if this was good or bad, but it stayed with me. Because to me this—us—is normal, and it’s now gotten to a point where I have to remind myself that it’s not normal for everyone. I find a lot of joy in our normality, and from the time Khary and I started dating I have been able to have tunnel vision and block out the moments when people around us are surprised. Here in the Bay Area, there are not often surprises. But I’m aware that we live in a bubble and I need to prepare my girls when it pops. Or explodes. We won’t know until it happens, but they’ll need to know to hold on when the boat is rocked, and how to manage the shitstorm that follows.

Years ago a friend of mine asked if Khary was my type, and I couldn’t answer right away. I had never really considered dating a black man prior to Khary. When we did start dating it was not because of or in spite of the fact that he was black. It was because he was Khary. We had been friends for years and so once we finally got together it felt right. The question of race didn’t come up for another year, once we started talking about children. I have to admit that it made me stop and really consider what it meant to be a white mom and whether I would always have a disconnect with my children. Khary convinced me, rightly so, that our kids would love me no matter what. Identity could be an issue at one point but if there is a question on the part of our girls, it will never be a question of choice, him or me. They will love us both unconditionally, and that is what matters. The rest—the questions, the boat and the shitstorm, we will deal with as a family.

05/26/2010

I have a summertime wish list. It includes barbeques, swimming lessons, and baseball games. Sunshine and iced tea with my husband and my girls. There's also the wish list that is out of reach. An eternally clean house, babies that sleep through the night every night, and the entire Tea Collection. We were fortunate to receive a few outfits at Christmas and I get lusty every time a catalog shows up in my mailbox. I rediscovered this photo of Jocelyn, which I count as one of my favorites.

I love it when she's sassy.

This post should not be considered a product review or endorsement of Tea Collection. It is simply a statement of my love and adoration for clothes that I wish to drape all over my daughters.

05/24/2010

I stumbled across a list the other day: 10 ways to know you are being a good father. My reaction to this list: no shit. Number One, when you help your kids with their schoolwork. Number Five, when you just enjoy being with your children and them with you. Now this list is not aimed at absent fathers, who perhaps need a more detailed list of Do’s and Don’ts. It is clearly directed towards the husbands of the world. Whether the husbands amongst us need such a list can be debated elsewhere, but you would never see an accompanying list for wives and mothers. So, I created my own.

Five ways you can be a good mother

1. When your daughter tells you to go away, choose not to turn around and leave the house as tempting as it might be.

2. When the baby starts crying at night, put down your second glass of wine. But if Nana is there, sit back and take another sip.

3. When you fill the car with all the necessities for a calm ride from point A to point B (Sippy Cup, pacifier, snacks, blanket, toys) and then have them all thrown aside, drown out the crying with loud music.

4. Take the dust bunnies out of the baby’s mouth. Erma Bombeck may have suggested that they make good toys, but don’t be that cheap.

5. Remember that someone else could be doing a better job, but you don’t know them, so the shit load of diapers are yours to clean up.

So maybe I should keep my list to myself. Basically, I think getting parenting advice from a top ten list is pretty stupid. Can you really sum up motherhood in a list? But maybe the fact that I can’t come up with a legitimate list means that I need a list to help me out. Or I just need more coffee. Or the baby needs to stop crying.

I’m feeling a bit snarky because I’m still riled up over the LOST finale. BABIES died on that island and I want to know WHY. There are many other questions I have but that’s my Mama question. My Writer question is this: why the hell would you put so much back story into babies and dharma, and then ignore them in the end? I’m not saying that I want a neat and tidy bow. I actually think the ending they came up with was a neat and tidy bow, and I want to untie it and strangle them with it.

And now I just saw a preview of today’s Oprah. Julia Roberts is on and Oprah asks her if she carpools and has playdates. Now don’t you think she’ll say yes even if it’s untrue? What the hell is she supposed to say, “No, I let my nanny do that?” When she says yes, am I supposed to feel as though we are one and the same? I don’t think so. Julia Roberts is no Michele Brown. Hardy har har.